


Misty Mountaintop

by Zombiiewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:33:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2598959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiiewrites/pseuds/Zombiiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Endverse; Dean's encounter with his future self and a certain fallen angel takes an explicit turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misty Mountaintop

His wrists are bound, body essentially immobilized by a pair of sturdy handcuffs affixed to a broken radiator and pinned by a set of identical, green eyes. The dull pain throbbing through the back of his skull is what ultimately jars him out of his two by four induced sleep. His vision blurs twice before focusing, eyes instantly drawn to the form leaning against the table in the center of the room. Despite being used for batting practice just a half hour earlier and the initial surprise of seeing a carbon copy of himself staring back at him, Dean is able to put the pieces together relatively quickly. However, before he can voice his theory, he finds himself in the sights of a Remington 870. 

 

Immediately, he goes on the defensive; in an effort to sway the doppelganger, he lists off the various creatures that could generate such a conceivable copy but gradually settles down when he's informed that the tests were already performed while he was unconscious. With that out of the way, it only takes one name to coax a ping of belief from the militant Dean Winchester standing before him.

 

"Zacariah," Past Dean says, annoyance evident in his tone. 

 

One intimate, panty-ridden conversation later, they are on the same page--at least, for the most part. End Dean even opens up about the Croatoan virus and briefly touches on the show down in Detroit but doesn't offer much else before holstering his pistol and strapping his backpack over one shoulder. Despite the protests, End Dean leaves him there--cuffed and helpless--while he tends to an errand. 

 

Past Dean is in the process of picking the lock on the cuffs when the door to the cabin opens again. Given his awkward position, it's impossible to see who it is until the footsteps round the corner and he is met with a friendly, yet unfamiliar, face. 

 

"Cas..." The name drops from his lips like a cinder block and the mere sight of his disheveled companion has him looking like he was just punched in the stomach.

 

"Is it my birthday?" Castiel huffs out a laugh, eyeing the cuffs and stroking over his heavily stubbled jaw thoughtfully as he contemplates abandoning his task of gathering supplies to investigate just  _why_ Dean is cuffed in the supply cabin. His knees crack when he squats down to eye level but his composure falters the moment he locks eyes with Dean. From his new perspective, he offers a quiet " _woah,"_  blue eyes widening subtly as he drinks in the slightly softer features of Dean's face.

 

"You're not...you. Not now you, anyway," he acknowledges, bewildered but intrigued. 

 

"No! I mean, yes! That's exactly it," Dean exclaims, giving the handcuffs a tug as he tries to sit up. 

 

"Who sent you here? Was it Zacariah?" Cas asks. He squints and hums when his assumptions are confirmed by a frantic nod from the cuffed Winchester.

 

"What year are you from?" Castiel questions curtly, searching Dean's eyes with a look of glazed confusion. 

 

"Two thousand nine," Dean reveals, cocking an eyebrow only when Cas narrows his eyes pensively and brandishes a suggestive, little smile. 

 

  
_"_ We haven't slept together yet, then?" Castiel blurts out immediately, chuckling lowly at the look of raw embarrassment that darkens Dean's cheeks. 

 

"Yet? Wha-What? Cas, what the fuck?" Dean responds, fighting his binds again in a futile attempt to shield the blush forming on his face. 

 

"Relax," Castiel sighs, wearing a nostalgia laced smile as he seats himself comfortably between Dean's denim clad legs. He gazes up at the hunter through hooded eyes, taking a moment to appreciate the innocence and blissful ignorance in Dean's tentative stare. "There's nothing to be ashamed of," Cas insists, brushing his fingertips against Dean's cheek before lifting his chin. "Two thousand and nine," he reminisces, "you're already in love with me, though, aren't you?" 

 

"Cas," Dean shudders under the tender touch and accusation of the angel-turned-human and gulps heavily as Castiel's hand descends along the curve of his shoulder and over his bicep. "I don't know what you're--" 

 

"Shh," Cas smiles, raising his index finger to brush Dean's lips while carefully maneuvering himself to straddle the cuffed man's lap like he'd done so dozens of times. "I fell for you," Castiel explains quietly, leaning in beside Dean's ear and sliding one hand down the center of the hunter's chest. "And I just kept falling," he laughs bitterly and nudges Dean's head back with his nose before ghosting his lips over the his Adam's apple. 

 

A surge of mismatched emotions pulse through Dean's mind--confusion, regret, anxiety, sadness, and arousal. To see Cas so broken and defeated leaves him feeling numb and to hear those weak declarations tumble from his mouth--the same mouth that once commanded the armies of heaven, the same mouth that insulted Lucifer, the same mouth that rebelled against the angels--is surreal. Yet, it's impossible to concentrate on pinpointing his role in the angel's downfall when each jutting grind of Cas' hips has Dean quaking down to the very core. 

 

"Fuck," Dean lets out jaggedly, craning his neck back listlessly and simultaneously submitting to Cas' not so subtle advances. 

 

Castiel takes advantage of the newly exposed skin by placing passionate, open-mouthed kisses against the base of Dean's throat and collarbones; each flick of his tongue evokes the most delightful gasps from the man beneath him. The way Dean slumps against him is all the validation Castiel needs to keep going. 

 

"You made the first move, you know," Castiel acknowledges, inching one hand up the length of Dean's forearms until his fingertips graze the cool metal of the cuffs. "We were both so lost...both just looking for something familiar," he sighs, burying his face into the crook of the other man's neck. "You had me right there in the backseat of the Impala, Dean," Castiel rasps before sucking a light bruise into Dean's collarbone. He works open the buttons on Dean's flannel with his free hand while the other teases the lock of the handcuffs. He adjusts his position, earning another series of hitched breaths and eager, little gasps from the hunter as a result of the warming friction in their laps.  

 

"You're going to be sent back to your time and this, all of this, is just going to be a blur, a dream. Just enjoy yourself, Dean. Let me take care of you," Castiel whispers, lifting his gaze and offering Dean a reassuring smile. 

 

Dean just sits there, slack jawed and helplessly turned on. Between Castiel's unabashed dirty talk, practiced foreplay and indisputable logic, all he can do is give in. After all, what he does here does not affect the present; this is just an elaborate scenario--a "could be" reality. 

 

"It was Summertime. We got stuck somewhere outside of Topeka," Castiel lets out in a hushed whisper against Dean's shoulder. "The car overheated, needed a couple of hours to cool down. It was warm that night so we had the windows down. We talked about...everything, anything. You held me so tight, Dean...and I felt you for days. I don't think I walked straight for a week," Cas continues, punctuating the memory with a deliberate roll of his hips and earning a strangled moan from somewhere deep in the hunter's chest. He smiles, mouthing over his throat and gently plucking the brass nail from between Dean's fingers. "We laid there, skin sticking to the seat, panting and sweating, windows fogged with dragging hand prints staining the glass. I remember laying my head on your chest and just listening to your heartbeat for what seemed like hours." 

 

Castiel pauses, as though he's still trapped in the memory, and smiles sincerely--all gums and teeth. "I still remember what you said once you regained your ability to speak. It wasn't cheesy or romantic. It was just...you," Cas laughs quietly into Dean's neck and squeezes his eyes shut like he's in pain. "That's one way to test the suspension," Castiel continues with the mystery words and only smiles wider. 

 

Dean shivers and writhes under Castiel's weight, the genuinity and rough deliverance of his words soaking into his pores and making his throat go dry. His breathing is quick now, face flushed and peppered with droplets of sweat, but his body is relaxed save for the pulsing erection straining against the zipper of his jeans. 

 

Castiel sets the nail aside and cradles Dean's face delicately between both hands, looking into his eyes with enough intensity to make Dean's breath catch. Wordlessly, Cas mitigates the distance between them and captures his lips in a way that has them both inhaling sharply through their noses. Their kisses soon overlap, tongues prodding shyly at dragging lips and Castiel's hands descending to inch up the fabric of Dean's undershirt. Cas maps out the smooth skin beneath, fingertips curling into the subtle definitions of Dean's abdomen and gliding upwards to brush over his nipples. Experimentally, Castiel pinches the peaked nub between his thumb and index finger, grinning wildly at the result. The simple ministration has Dean arching but by the time Cas is rolling his nipple between his finger, Dean is gritting out incoherent curses through his teeth and gasping. 

 

"You were always so sensitive," Castiel sighs contently, smiling and watching the beautiful contortions of the hunter's face as he attempts to compose himself. 

 

His attention is only interrupted by a pair of heavy footsteps on the porch and the distinct creak of the cabin door. Before either of them can register the disruption, End Dean steps into view with a look crossed between shock and curiosity. 

 

"Really, Cas?" He chastises, motioning lazily to the two of them--Castiel still perched on Past Dean's lap, adding to the collection of hickeys on his neck with one hand still burrowed beneath his shirt. 

 

"What?" Castiel defends, making no effort to stand or withdraw at all, "I like past you." 

 

"I wasn't even gone for forty-five minutes," he groans, setting down his bag and weapon before sliding a hand down his tired face. "Unbelievable," Dean mutters with a patronizing shake of his head. 

 

Castiel only grins, watching with amusement as End Dean stomps towards the other side of the bookshelf and seats himself at the table there. The sound of glass clinking and pouring liquid makes him sigh and lean back. Castiel pats Past Dean's cheek affectionately, stare lingering, and speaks while reluctantly lifting himself off of his lap. "You're so grumpy." He smiles.

 

Cas steps lightly, moving with a sort of mindless grace that carries him from one part of the room to the other. End Dean peers at him over the rim of his glass, only lowering it when Castiel wedges his body between himself and the table. They exchange words, voices distorted by the distance, and though Dean's tone fluctuates, Castiel remains composed throughout the duration of the conversation. From his spot behind the bookshelf, Past Dean can only pick up a handful of words and phrases--something along the lines of  _"it's only weird if you make it weird",_   _"just do this for me",_ and  _"I'm gonna' need another drink."_ It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Castiel is getting at and Dean--knowing himself--is already certain there is no way he'll be able to turn down Cas' pleading tone. 

 

Castiel returns a few minutes later, key in hand. He crouches low enough to unlock the handcuffs still binding Dean's wrists and holds out his hand once the hunter is free. Dean lets himself be hoisted up and led back to the table where his doppelganger is seated, still nursing a glass of whiskey. While eyeing his copy, Dean seats himself at the opposite side and rubs at the sore spots on his wrists. 

 

While Castiel pours their "guest" a drink, End Dean just stares on. There is so much he wants to tell himself, so much he wants to say in regards to saying yes to Michael and what has become of their brother but he can't bring himself to do it. Not yet, anyways. Castiel wants to fool around; he wants to do something to distract them from the chaos even if it is only for an evening, and well, Dean doesn't say no to him anymore. Cas is all he has left and he will use whatever influence, strength, and power he has left to make him happy. 

 

Despite the awkwardness, Cas made some good points--this is a once in a lifetime thing, one last hoo-rah before the big finale. And even if his past self doesn't come out of this learning the lesson Zacariah intended, he will leave this place knowing that Castiel feels the same way, that he has always felt the same way. He will leave knowing how good it  _could_ have been.

 

Three drinks in and Castiel has reclaimed his spot on Past Dean's lap. He ruts against him shamelessly, hands roaming wildly across his chest and squeezing at his biceps. With his hands now free, Dean can reciprocate Castiel's affections but he's hesitant to do so at first. It isn't a matter of not wanting to, it's where to start. Eventually, with a minimal amount of physical persuasion, he's groping and caressing almost as unabashedly as Cas is. However, green eyes soon stray towards the opposite end of the table, instantly drawn to the cigarette dangling from his doppelganger's lips and the lighter being raised to his mouth. 

 

"I don't know why you're looking at me. You should be looking at him," End Dean mumbles with a hint of amusement, inhaling deep and clicking the lighter shut once the tip of the cigarette ignites. He scoots his chair back enough to prop his feet up atop the table but remains still otherwise. Through a thin cloud of smoke, he watches Castiel work, his own body unable to deny the excitement of the new perspective of watching his lover.

 

Castiel pulls away briefly to flash his lover an over the shoulder smirk and takes the opportunity to pull the loose fitting kurta top over his head.  End Dean's eyes are instantly drawn to the dimples at the small of Castiel's back but slowly rake up to admire the way his shoulder blades shift and settle beneath his tanned skin as he shifts atop the other Dean's lap.

 

Past Dean gives the brunette a not-so-subtle once over, eyes darting across Castiel's chest and mouth watering at the sight of his prominent obliques and the jutting hipbones that disappear into the loose elastic of his lounge pants. Dean's hands scale the lengths of Cas' thighs and find purchase cupping his backside through the thin fabric of his bottoms. He pulls him closer, starved for more of that delicious friction, and cranes his neck back when Castiel cards a hand through his short hair. Their teeth click together once when they kiss, mouths mounting and tongues swirling in between hot, whiskey-laced breaths and borderline frantic clutches against what little clothing they have left. 

 

"Put him on the table." The order comes from the opposite end of the table, where Dean is flicking the ash off of his cigarette. He blows out another puff of smoke and eyes his copy confidently, only looking away when his instructions are honored.

 

Past Dean lifts Castiel effortlessly and places him on the edge of the table before urging him back with a gentle nudge against his shoulder. Cas spreads out over the warm wood there, bathed in a yellowish tint from the overhead light, and smiles tiredly as both of his partners tower over him from opposite ends of the table. With the awkwardness subsiding and the fact that Cas is quite literally on display for him, Dean grows a bit bolder. He shrugs his flannel off the rest of the way and tugs his shirt over his head hastily before stepping back into view. The look on Castiel's face when he does, sends his heart plunging into his gut. 

 

Cas is staring at him with wide, glossy eyes, his eyebrows sloped pitifully, and his jaw slightly slack--like he is a work of art crafted by the finest hands in the universe. Without a word, Castiel curls back up and reaches out, hesitantly pressing his hand over Dean's bare bicep. His fingers and palm fit into the hand print there with ease; the scar serves as a pale reminder of the power he once possessed. 

 

"Cas?" End Dean whispers, reaching forward to soothe a hand through his disheveled hair. He knows what's going through the former angel's mind but he is quick to pull him out of that dark corner of his mind. Castiel tilts his head back almost immediately, nuzzling into the touch and pressing a lazy kiss into Dean's palm before plastering on a reassuring, albeit fake, smile. 

 

"Dean?" Castiel retorts easily, instantly shifting away from the uncomfortable intimacy of what the scar represents and replacing the tender moment with a barrier. Not wanting to ruin the mood with sentiments and angst, Cas refocuses Dean's attention by gently inching his hands down the other man's torso and hooking his index fingers into the belt loops of his jeans. He yanks Past Dean between his spread legs and peers up at him through dense lashes, batting them and smirking in an enticing way that makes Dean's knees go weak. 

 

Although they have the kissing thing down, Dean seems hesitant to do much else besides swap saliva and dry hump. As endearing as Cas finds his savory affections, End Dean can sense his lover's impatience from where he's sitting and decides to step in. He tells himself it's only to help move things along but the reality is that he can't remember the last time he was this hard and he's accepted that voyeurism is not his thing. 

 

"You don't have to be so careful with him," End Dean acknowledges. The feet of the chair skid against the floor as he stands from the table, cigarette still hanging between his lips. "He'll tell you if it's too much...if he wants to stop. Not that I remember the last time that happened or anything," he continues with an affectionate, almost dark, laugh. His footsteps sound against the wood panels with intimidating control, only ceasing when he's standing parallel to his time traveling self with Castiel sprawled out on the table between them. "This isn't your first time together, remember? It's just a dream, Dean." He hopes to coax the shyness out of his copy by stressing the truth behind their situation because he knows that the novelty of his gentleness will wear off eventually. 

 

"Besides," Dean narrows his eyes and plucks the cigarette from his mouth before hunching over. Not breaking eye contact with the other Dean, he rests his hands on either side of Castiel and exhales in his face. "Cas can take it. He can take  _everything_ and  _anything_ we can dish out," slowly, he lowers his eyes and smiles down at his partner, "isn't that right, Sweetheart?" 

 

Cas moans--actually moans--and arches off of the table under Dean's indirect praise. He's such a wreck--a beautiful disaster really, but he knows what he wants and that's more than most people in their position can say. He is so desensitized, they both are, but the desire to just  _feel_ something is so strong now. No, it's not even a desire anymore; it's a compulsion. 

 

While Castiel sits up, End Dean takes the final drag of his cigarette and shucks off his jacket. He discards the smoke in a nearby ashtray as he rounds the corner of the table and positions himself directly behind his copy, essentially trapping him there between himself and Cas. Needless to say, Past Dean tenses at the first contact between him and his future self but his body grows accustomed to the familiar touch faster than he could ever anticipate. 

 

"Just take a minute to think about it," End Dean murmurs, voice low and enticing. He leans in close to the other Dean's ear and delicately raises a hand to wrap around his throat. "I know your body better than anyone. I can touch you how you want to be touched, kiss you how you want to be kissed," he whispers, easing the other's head and giving his throat a lazy squeeze. "And Cas, well..." he smiles into the bare shoulder of his copy and peers down at Cas who is already in the process of unfastening Past Dean's pants. "Cas is a natural." 

 

Past Dean gulps and inhales shakily when he feels his doppelganger's other hand descend his bare torso. His fingertips brush against the narrow patch of hair that trails from his bellybutton to his briefs before plunging past the waistband there and skillfully wrapping around his arching arousal. The abruptness of it all almost has Dean doubling over but the firm hold around his throat keeps him upright. 

 

"I can tease you the way you want to be teased, stroke you the way you want to be stroked," he continues, jerking Past Dean's cock in heavy, long strokes. "I can bring you right to the fucking edge," he growls into his ear and tightens the grip around his neck while simultaneously releasing his dick, "and leave you hanging there because that's what we fucking love, Dean." Grinning, End Dean glances over the other's shoulder and licks his lips at the sight of his desperate lover palming himself through his pants. "C'mon, Cas. End of the world doesn't mean the end of hospitality," Dean lets out smoothly. He has to physically bite his tongue at the mischievous, little smile Cas flashes his way before he eases himself off of the table and lowers onto his knees. 

 

From the first swipe of Cas' flat tongue, Dean knows he's a goner. Moans and curses spill from his lips shamelessly as the former angel works his sweet mouth over his cock, slurping and savoring and humming like he's fucking grateful for it. 

 

"Is it everything you dreamed of?" End Dean grunts out, rubbing his copy's Adam's apple roughly. "You know we dreamed about it, Cas? Don't you?" he adds, shifting his attention to Cas who promptly stares up with hallowed cheeks. "Dreamed of how good it would feel to have your pretty, little lips wrapped around our cock. How fucking gorgeous you'd look staring up at us with a big dick in your mouth," End Dean sighs harshly, reaching down with his unoccupied hand to soothe his fingers through Castiel's dark hair. 

 

Castiel looks entirely content at that moment. Dean doesn't know if it's from the attention or from the lingering high of any drugs he might have taken earlier--most likely a combination of the two--but he doesn't question it. Instead, he just continues his encouragement with gentle pets against Cas' hair and the occasional tug just to keep him on his toes. 

 

Castiel doesn't skip a beat. He takes his time, savoring the weight and tangy taste of Dean's cock. He hums and shuts his eyes when he feels Past Dean's hand slide over his scalp alongside the other Dean's and drives himself forward, successfully bottoming out over the thick cock in his mouth and holding himself there. The sound that Past Dean lets out in response--something crossed between a hiss and a whimper--makes is own member twitch fervently against his thigh.

 

Gradually, he abandons his hold on Past Dean's throat and side steps to drink in the erotic sight--Cas on his knees with his face buried in the pubic hair at the base of Dean's cock while his doppelganger tries to keep from doubling over. Despite Past Dean's reciprocation, he still appears tense. Fortunately, End Dean plans on expanding his comfort zone.

 

He was always a sucker for peer pressure, so it doesn't surprise End Dean in the least when his copy takes the first hit of the joint Cas so graciously rolled for them. What he doesn't count on is his own inhibitions dulling under the impact of their blatant substance abuse. 

 

The trio find themselves sprawled out on a couple of extra mattresses in the back of the supply room surrounded by a cloud of lingering marijuana smoke. The wall the mattress is pressed against serves as a makeshift headboard for Cas whom is seated happily between his two lovers, enjoying Past Dean's tentative touches and End Dean's practiced ones. 

 

He takes his second hit of the cigarette and huffs out a laugh when he catches End Dean staring up at him like he's his sun and his stars. He doesn't remember the last time this Dean had looked at him like that. "What?" Castiel lets out defensively, smiling through the smoke and passing the joint off. 

 

"Nothin'," End Dean replies, fingering the blunt between his fingers with a distant stare. "Just..." he pauses and grunts, lifting himself onto one elbow so he can see his copy over Cas' lap. "The first time he ever, ya' know, smoked out. Holy shit," Dean explains, motioning to Cas with a lazy nod but looking at his former self. "I mean, me and you, we did it back at Sonny's all the time but this one," Dean interrupts himself with a breathy laugh, "I don't even know how you convinced me. We ended up at the market and then next thing I know we're making smores on the stove. 'Cept they tasted like shit." Dean takes another hit and can barely finish the story through his laughter, which in turn, has both Past Dean and Cas chuckling contagiously. 

 

"W-We got fucking saltines instead of graham crackers and--" he cuts himself off with another laugh and has to wipe the tears forming at the corners of his eyes just to compose himself. 

 

By the time the laughter dies down, the blunt is back in Cas' possession. However, rather than being completely selfish, he hooks one arm around Past Dean's neck and tugs him close just before exhaling into his mouth, shotgunning the smoke directly between his lips while eyeing him with sultry, blue eyes. 

 

Past Dean coughs twice but ultimately smiles before sealing his lips over Castiel's. He tastes like weed and whiskey and home and he can't will himself to pull away until End Dean nudges them to pass the joint back over. Unfortunately, Cas has other plans. 

 

"You should do it. You two," he suggests, handing the cigarette back to Past Dean in an effort to test his comfort levels. 

 

Surprisingly, Past Dean is quick to inhale the remainder of the smoke before giving his future self a rough tug and mitigating the distance between them so that they meet halfway, right above Castiel. 

 

Cas just watches slack jawed and helplessly turned on as the smoke flows between them slowly. Their identical profiles hover above him like beautiful statues and when their matching lips meet for the first time, Cas is almost certain he could come right there on the spot. 

 

"Fuck," is all Castiel can manage, fingernails scratching against the mattress and toes curling delightfully. He swallows heavily and worries his lower lip, unsure if he wants to interrupt or just keep watching. However, somewhere between minute two and three of their make out session, Cas grows impatient and intercepts with a desperate, little moan. From there, they take turns kissing and tasting each other. The kissing gradually turns to heavy petting and before either of them can even register who's touching who, the three of them are moaning shamelessly into each other's mouths and grappling for more contact. 

 

Despite everyone's enthusiasm, it's no surprise to any of them that End Dean is the one who comes out as the "alpha male",  _especially_ when he hears Castiel begging for some attention in the sweetest voice imaginable. 

 

"Please, Dean," Cas sighs, pulling back and wiping the saliva from his lips. He sits on his heels, shifting his thighs uncomfortably while palming at his stiff cock. 

 

"I know, baby. C'mere," End Dean beckons Castiel over with two fingers and simultaneously urges his former self down so that he is laying on his back. Past Dean looks a bit perplexed when Cas stars to climb on top of him into the sixty-nine position which only makes End Dean snort in amusement. "Oh, don't act like you haven't sucked a cock before," he grunts out bluntly while scooting himself up against the wall so that he's behind Cas with Past Dean's head resting against his thigh. 

 

Cas laughter is cut short by an obscene moan when Past Dean abruptly takes his cock into his mouth and gives him a firm, drawn out suck. "Oh shi--" Cas whimpers but is again promptly interrupted by yet another moan when End Dean leans forward and swipes his skilled tongue over his needy hole. The little satisfied hum both Dean's let out send the most delicious vibrations through his body and nearly make his elbows give out but he wills himself to stay put while both of his lovers have at him. 

 

Past Dean continues to mouth at his cock while rubbing little circles into his hipbones with his thumbs and End Dean thoroughly laps at his entrance while massaging the full, firm globes of his ass and spreading them shamelessly just to watch him pucker. The dual stimulation renders Castiel useless in no time. He pants hard, his warm breath washing over Dean's straining member, but he can't bring himself to service him save for the occasional lick. A steady chant of curses and unabashed filth is all that he can muster, just whorish sobs of, "fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," and "don't stop, dean." 

 

Needless to say, neither Dean, past nor future, can deny Castiel for very long. 

 

"You going to take two cocks, baby? That what you want, sweetheart?" End Dean growls once he has Cas sitting up on his knees in front of him, his own chest pressed to the other's back and his face buried in the crook of his neck. He ruts his cock against Cas' backside, prodding at his lubed entrance teasingly while tweaking his nipples.

 

"Want it so bad, Dean. Want you to fucking tear me apart," Cas groans back, resting the back of his head against his lover's shoulder lazily and smiling with closed eyes. 

 

"Fuck," Past Dean gulps at the raunchy display and gives himself a few much needed strokes while watching his future self get into position. 

 

They remain back to chest with End Dean on the bottom and Cas on top but now that they are laying down, Castiel is a bit more portable and pliable. "Gonna' loosen him up some more for you," End Dean informs, rubbing harshly at Castiel's chest with one hand while feeding his cock into his hole with the other. They both groan in unison, Cas at the intrusion and Dean at the tightness, and adjust to fit against each other easily. 

 

Past Dean just sits on his knees and watches Cas take every inch of his copy's cock and has to squeeze his own dick just to keep a handle on himself. "Oh my god," he whispers to himself, swallowing dryly when Dean starts to thrust up into Castiel's greedy, little hole. "How's he going to take both of us?"

 

End Dean just grins and hooks his hands under Cas' knees to show him off more. With both of their bodies already warm from over an hour of foreplay and heavy intoxication, Dean is fucking into Cas with no resistance in just seconds. Rather than answering Dean's question, End Dean just sinks in particularly deep and glances at his doppelganger over Castiel's shoulder, "put two fingers in him." 

 

Past Dean pauses briefly at the instructions but complies once he registers what he's been told to do. After pouring a generous amount of lubrication from the discarded bottle on his fingers, he lines his digits up with Castiel's entrance and slowly eases them in alongside the other Dean's thick member. "Fuck," Past Dean whispers, marveling at the way the angel-turned-human stretches and grinds down against the extra penetration. 

 

"That's my boy," End Dean growls proudly, pressing one hand flat against Castiel's taut abdomen just to keep him in place. He smirks adoringly when Past Dean starts to join his pace and even more so when he leans down to kiss Castiel sweetly. 

 

They continue like this for a few minutes, just gently easing in and out of him together before adding a third finger. Dean alternates between solid thrusts and scissoring until Castiel starts to buck down against them impatiently, huffing and grunting all the while about how he's ready. 

 

"So greedy, Cas," End Dean teases, sighing as he gently eases himself out of his lover's backside. He takes the opportunity to hoist him up beneath the knees again and raises his eyebrows at his copy, "well? What are you waiting for?" 

 

One look at Cas' gaping entrance and Dean's carnal instincts take the wheel. He hastily scoots forward between both his copy's and Castiel's legs before sinking into his waiting hole with just enough force to evoke a gorgeous, throaty moan from somewhere deep in their bottom's chest. "Fuck, you feel so good, Cas. Fucking unreal," Dean praises, resting his forehead against Castiel's chest as he starts to thrust. 

 

Every thrust sends Cas sliding up and down End Dean's sweaty chest. "So deep, Dean. I feel like I can feel you in my throat," Cas laughs breathlessly and arches his back beautifully when the other Dean begins to stroke his neglected cock. Castiel's body is relaxed for the most part but the moment he feels a second head pressing up against his entrance, he tenses out of instinct and lets out a low whine. 

 

"Shh, let me in, baby," Dean hushes him gently and presses a sloppy kiss to the side of his face while lifting his hips. When he breaches the rim, he gasps and Castiel whimpers, nodding quietly while willing his body to relax as best he can. Past Dean does his best to remain still and distracts himself from the overwhelming pleasure by adding more lubrication to their connection. It's that extra slickness that enables End Dean to push in the rest of the way until they are both snug in Castiel's ass. 

 

The pressure and stretch of it all is a little painful at first but Castiel is smiling regardless. Sure, the high is definitely helping with the pain and he probably wont walk straight for a week, but the trade off is worth it. "So full. I feel so fucking full," Castiel sighs lovingly, doing his best to lift his head in a poor attempt to see what they're doing to him.

 

Neither Dean moves at first. They just stay put and shower their bottom with affectionate kisses, possessive nibbles, and hushed praise that has Cas huffing and clenching around both of their cocks in apprehension of what's to come. 

 

"So good for us, Cas," Past Dean whispers, pulsing inside of him and licking up a rouge drop of sweat from between the brunette's pectorals. 

 

"W-Want more, please. Fuck me. I want it," Castiel moans, nuzzling hard against End Dean's stubbled cheek while circling his hips in a way that has both men groaning breathlessly. 

 

End and Past Dean make brief eye contact before they both start to buck into their angel with slow, shallow thrusts. What they lack in speed is more than made up for in terms of thickness because by the sounds coming out of their lover, Castiel seems to be enjoying himself and then some. 

 

"You're gonna' wake up the whole camp, baby," End Dean laughs through his moans and busies himself with giving Cas another hickey to go along with the other four that have already surfaced along his neck and throat. 

 

"Good," Cas gasps simply, grinding downwards in a selfish attempt to take both men deeper. That becomes a little bit easier when Dean lifts Cas' knees again and bends him in half giving his former self a generous view of his full backside and thick thighs. 

 

"Oh, God. That's h-hot. Fuck, Cas. You're doing so good. Can-Can't wait to watch you come on our cocks. You look so good like this, Cas," Past Dean whispers, blowing out a harsh breath and gnashing his teeth as he starts to pick up the pace to match that of his future self. 

 

Before long, both of their wet cocks are sliding in and out of Cas' stretched backside with ease. His ass and the backs of his thighs are glistening with a mixture of lube and spit and the sound of their slick skin slapping together is only trumped by the cacophony of mismatched moans and gasps. 

 

"That's it, take it all, baby. You going to make a mess all over yourself while we pump you full of come? Hm?" End Dean growls roughly, nipping at his earlobe once and thrusting in particularly hard so that they both slam into his prostate. Of course, now that they've located his sweet spot, they both begin to pound into it relentlessly. 

 

The sudden switch in rhythm has Cas sobbing with pleasure in a matter of seconds. Wit his limbs exhausted, he sits in Dean's hold like a rag doll, loving the way they continue to use him despite his borderline unconsciousness. However, it's ultimately one thing that sends Castiel over the edge. He catches sight of the handprint on Past Dean's bulging bicep once more and uses whatever strength he has left to fit his palm and fingers against the mark. When he catches the quick, almost boyish grin on Dean's face, Castiel's eyes are rolling into the back of his head and he's coming with a wrecked, incoherent shout. 

 

Strings of hot come paint Castiel's contracting stomach and heaving chest and it's that sudden tightness that has Past Dean following close behind. He pours into him with Castiel's name on his lips, slickening his inner walls even more with every waning thrust of his cock until he's spent. 

 

End Dean licks his lips at the sudden wetness and follows suit by bucking up beside his copy's softening cock at a rapid pace until he's shooting his load and come is pouring out of their lover's abused backside. "Christ," is all he can say as he reluctantly loosens his grip on Castiel's fucked out body and collapses against the mattress. 

 

The three of them lay there for a long while, coming down from their orgasms and highs all at once. The feeling is liberating--like an out of body experience. Cas, surprisingly, is the first one to speak up over the heavy panting and tired yawns. 

 

"Saltines instead of graham crackers," he chuckles out randomly, making both of his partner's laugh out loud as well. 

 

///

 

The trio make no move to get up from bed even after they roll off of each other and spread out on their respective sides of the massive California King. Castiel and End Dean share another cigarette but within the hour, End Dean is snoring on his side with his forearm draped over his eyes and his mouth open charmingly. 

 

Castiel rolls onto his side and drapes an arm over Past Dean's stomach while he strokes over the fallen angel's shoulder tenderly. They are quiet for a long while, just enjoying the steady rise and fall of each other's chests and the fleeting feeling of being "new" again. It's no surprise that Dean is the one determined to stay awake--afraid that the moment he falls asleep the dream will be over--and so he struggles to keep his eyes open despite the overwhelming comfort that is having Castiel at his side.

 

Castiel stares off at the distant wall, just quietly walking his fingers up and down Dean's chest while snuggling into his armpit, affectionately. He can't remember the last time Dean stuck around after sex and so he too, is trying to take advantage of what little time they have left. "Dean?"

 

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean replies groggily. 

 

"Don't say yes to Michael," Castiel whispers.

 

"Cas," Dean sighs, keeping his eyes on the ceiling until he feels a hand cupping his face. He looks down tentatively, trapped by Castiel's intense, sapphire gaze. 

 

Castiel cards a hand through his lover's damp hair and smiles down at him affectionately, as though searching those eyes for the last time. "You deserve the world. Whether you go out as big brother or fearless leader, you deserve to go out as the righteous man. You deserve to go out as Dean Winchester." 

 


End file.
